How it Happened
by Kagedtiger
Summary: A little dreaminspired fic about House and Wilson getting together. Slash, obviously. Perhaps not my best work, but it's short it might merit a read.


How it Happened 

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**Notes/Disclaimer: I'd just like to say, this isn't really how I think House and Wilson would get together, if it ever happened. This is the result of a dream I had in which House/Wilson slash was canon. Honestly, no joke. I was a little disappointed when I woke up. So I wrote it down. It's a little OOC. If you'd like to read what I _actually_ think it would be like, read Curing What Ails Ya. Other than that, just enjoy this for what it is. **

**Also, I do not own _House M.D._ or any of the characters. Contains slight spoilers for the end of the last season. **  
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Technically, House probably was not well enough to even be out of bed yet, but no one was very well going to tell him that he couldn't go to a medical conference. Never mind that he probably wouldn't even have considered going if he was well; the point was they couldn't make him stay in bed. Especially not with his leg recovering.

He lounged idly by the pool side, warm sun beating down on his face, and napped. Somewhere in the back of his mind was the nagging reminder that he was supposed to be in one of the hotel's several conference rooms, listening to someone talk about brain worms, or bowel worms, or heat stroke, or something. He ignored the voice, as he almost always did.

He was feeling warm and languid and dozy, his mind drifting off to more pleasant thoughts, when a sudden dousing of water startled him. He sat up quickly, mildly peeved even though he was in his bathing suit, lying on a chair by the side of the pool, and therefore inviting such attack. He glared at the form of Dr. James Wilson as the younger man surfaced and slicked his wet hair back from his face.

"Shouldn't you be at that worm lecture?" he grumbled.

"His name was Dr. Devurm," Wilson responded dryly, but with a fond grin "the lecture was on rare poisons, and it ended nearly an hour ago. You fell asleep."

"Damn," House quipped, "I missed some of the best loafing hours."

Wilson smiled at him, that bizarre soft smile again that was really starting to bug the hell out of House. He'd been wearing that smile nearly continuously since House woke up. He opened his mouth to say something, but Wilson ducked back underwater before he could. By the time he resurfaced, he was nearly at the other end of the pool. House had to wait until he swam back before saying peevishly, "What are you smiling about, anyway?"

"It's a nice day," said Wilson. "Warm, relaxing. I'm in a pool. What's not to like?"

House shook his head. "You've been smiling like that since I woke up. And I don't mean since your cannonball into the pool. What gives?"

The smile – still there, dammit! – softened just a little bit. "I'm just glad you're okay, House. I was… really worried about you. For a while we were afraid you might not wake up."

House scowled at him. He had suspected it would be something sappy like that. Finally he threw his hands up in the air in a 'whatever' gesture and lay back down, closing his eyes. How typically Wilson, being worried about him. The guy was a truly horrific judge of character, if he still clung to House.

A slightly wicked thought popped into House's head. He waited until Wilson had swum a few more laps and was at his side of the pool, holding on to the edge, before cracking open one eye.

"Hey Wilson," he said. Wilson looked up. "Are you in love with me?"

Wilson lost his grip on the edge of the pool and slipped under the water, then came up sputtering and choking. House felt pleased with himself. Wilson choked and coughed a bit more and then finally said hoarsely, "Excuse me?"

"I asked if you were in love with me," House repeated. "It's a fairly straightforward question."

"Well, I, well," Wilson stammered. "I-I- of course I love you. You know that. You're my best friend."

"That's not what I asked," said House. He stretched languidly and stood, taking the few steps to the edge of the pool and kneeling down so that he and Wilson were face to face. "I asked if you were in love with me. It's a different question." He swooped in quickly and kissed a very startled Wilson on the lips, causing the poor cancer doctor to fall once again back into the pool. Feeling a bit smug, House stood and began to walk back to the hotel. His leg, though still a little weak, felt comfortingly whole and painless under him.

He was practically to the hotel's glass-enclosed sun porch before Wilson caught up with him. Wilson was at least contained enough to wait until they were in the room with the door firmly shut before he exploded.

A witness from the outside would have seen a smug older man stretched out in one of the comfortable lounge chairs while his younger counterpart paced around the room, ranting. They couldn't be heard through the glass, but one could get a general idea of the younger man's agitated state as he waved his arms around and paced furiously, his mouth moving continuously in a constant strain of monologue. Roughly every five minutes or so he would pause, either for breath or to wait for a reply, and the older man would say a few words, never a very wordy reply, that would set the younger man off again, pacing and raving.

It was nearly forty minutes later, and Wilson was still in a huff, when House finally decided it was time to put the younger man out of his misery. It had been amusing, as he had always known it would be, to watch Wilson's reaction to his confession. But as much as he had treated it like a joke, he had known that he would have to admit it sometime. And with the way Wilson had been looking at him, it was getting more and more difficult every day not to say anything. Now was as good a time as any.

"Look, I'm very serious," he said, cutting Wilson off mid-rant. You know me, you know I'm an asshole, but you also know I wouldn't joke about something like this."

Wilson paused, eyeing House suspiciously. "You're really in love with me?" he asked.

"First. Second. Last. Only," House responded dryly. "I have a very short list of loves. Or affections, for that matter. It's a pretty short list for respect, too."

Wilson slumped into one of the padded chairs. "You're an asshole, you know that?"

"Aw, and here I was worried that you might not love me anymore when you found out." House's voice dripped with sarcasm.

Wilson, who was massaging his temples as if to ward off a headache, cracked an eye open and said, "You have to know that I'm ridiculously in love with you, right?"

"Duh," said House. "Do you honestly think I would have said anything if I didn't know you were? I'm not an idiot. Besides, I have my reputation to uphold."

"Which reputation is that?"

"Always being right."

Wilson sighed. The eye had closed again, and he had gone back to rubbing his temples. "A complete asshole," he repeated.

House grinned and leaned back into the comfortably padded chair. "Whatever would you do without me?" he said.

- THE END -

Oh God, that was hideous. Take me back.   
or  
Oh God, that was hideous. Let me complain to the author.


End file.
